He is Watching You

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘You are a detective sergeant, though, DS Ives?’

  ‘I am. The detective part is from a long time ago it seems.’

  ‘As I understand. I suppose you’ve not been doing any real police work for some time. I am told that you’ve been deployed largely as a covert asset. Is that correct?’

  ‘I’ve been undercover for most of my career, sir. It’s some of the most effective police work you can ever do in my humble opinion. We’ve had some big hits against some of the most dangerous organised criminal groups in the—’

  ‘Yes, yes. All very impressive.’ His lips curled into an almost sneer, though he tried to conceal it. But one thing Maddie was good at was reading what people were trying to hide. She was used to a negative reaction to undercover policing. Much of what was involved was neither measurable nor known.

  ‘And I was not expecting you until the middle of the week. I understand you were being given some time to organise your affairs?’

  ‘Call it enthusiasm!’ She grinned. ‘And I had nothing better to do. I figured the earlier I got started, the earlier I could work out what I’m doing down here.’

  ‘Yes, quite. Well, we have been able to find you a vocation here in Canterbury. It may not compete with running round with OCGs but it’s good work. Essential work. Have you any experience in missing persons?’

  ‘Missing like abducted?’

  The DCI snorted. ‘Well, I mean it is a possibility, but you may have to adjust your expectations a little. I think it’s fair to say that the majority of our missing people have an altogether different explanation for their disappearance.’

  ‘Okay. Well no, then. I don’t have masses of experience around missing persons but I’m sure I can learn.’

  ‘I’m sure you can. We need a missing persons coordinator. It requires someone of a sergeant rank. You will hold missing persons for the area overall as part of your portfolio. The actual tasks around searching for these individuals will fall to uniform patrols in most instances. You will have more involvement from a risk assessment point of view. Have you completed a risk assessment before?’

  ‘I’ve written covert operations orders. More than I can remember. Most of that is risk assessments and—’

  ‘I think you might find these a little different!’ Lowe snorted again. ‘Once again, DS Ives, I feel I need to advise you to adjust your expectations a little bit. I understand you are to work your way towards completing your inspector’s exam. You will also need to build a portfolio around that. Risk assessments, identifying vulnerable persons and pro-actively identifying measures to reduce the frequency of our regular missing persons will provide all you need in your journey to the next rank. I will need to endorse it, of course. I can assure you I’m not a difficult man to impress. Toe the line and work hard and you’ll see that for yourself. And we will have a wonderful working relationship. I will arrange for you to be shown the ropes, as it were. I’m sure that someone with your background and ability will be able to pick up something like this very quickly indeed.’

  Maddie bit down on her tongue long enough to stop the first thing that flashed through her mind from coming out of her mouth. ‘I’m sure I will, sir.’ She managed eventually.

  ‘Your desk is the first one you come to on your right. There’s a tea fund. Marilyn runs it. I have no doubt she will make herself known to you. Now, I do have a phone conference. I will be sure to check in with you later today to see how you are getting on. Could I ask that you push the door shut for me?’

  Maddie stepped out. Back into the low level din of clacking keys and clicking mouse buttons. Every occupant seemed hunched over their keyboard and now nobody was looking up. Her desk stood out as the only one with no clutter. She had a dusty keyboard that looked to be from the previous decade and a monitor to match. Castoffs, equipment no one else wanted. Maddie was beginning to think that it was rather appropriate.

  * * *

  The woman woke suddenly. The pain in her stomach was so bad she felt like something was moving around inside of it. She was on her side — she didn’t know how; perhaps she had moved in her sleep and that was what had woken her up. She tried to roll back and had to tense her stomach to do it. The pain spread instantly until it felt like it was consuming her whole body. The nausea came again and she froze where she lay. She couldn’t be sick again — the retching was agony.

  She tried to focus on her breathing. She needed to stay still and calm and maybe she could start to think of a way of getting out of this. She closed her eyes and thought about home, about how she had once had a life with so many plans. She knew if she got out of this she could get that life back. She just knew it.

  She managed to calm down and her breathing reverted to normal. She could still hear the buzzing but there was something different. She had shifted enough for the sharp pain in her stomach to ease to a dull ache. And she was able to concentrate again — on listening. There was a tapping sound as if somebody was drumming their fingers on metal in a steady rhythm. Her hands were a little looser, especially her right. She had been working on freeing them every time she was awake. She tried to lift them again. Her stomach flinched, but it was bearable. She tried to focus on her right arm and it gave another few millimetres. She moved it again. There was nothing else to do. It was exhausting. Every attempt sapped more and more of her energy. She was aware of the buzzing still. The flies seemed worse. She could feel them almost everywhere now. They tickled her neck and she shook her head. Her neck shot with pain but no longer enough to stop her. The flies lifted only to land right back on her skin. She flinched again. Her breathing quickened. She could now feel flies on her legs, too. Sometimes she could feel them on her feet through the numbness. What if they were eating her alive? Did flies eat people? Perhaps they could lay eggs under her skin? Her mind ran with horrific possibilities. She wasn’t even sure if the tapping sound was real or if it was just in her mind.

  She flinched again, this time with her whole body. The pain was bad. She tried to shout but nothing came out and it made her neck throb. Her whole body stiffened as she tried to push against whatever it was that was holding her so tightly. It didn’t budge. She flushed with adrenalin and could feel herself starting to panic. She wriggled a little more and it felt like her stomach was tearing as she did. She didn’t feel the pain through the adrenalin but her energy was draining away. She had one last push in her. She tried to scream. Her throat stung, her stomach flashed with pain, she wrenched her arm hard as she rolled onto her back. Her arm was still stuck; it could be looser but she didn’t have the energy to move it again. She concentrated on her breathing. She thought again about her family. The panic was ebbing, to be was replaced by exhaustion. Her mouth lolled open. She felt a drip on her mouth. She smacked her lips.

  Water!

  Another drip followed quickly after. Water was dripping through from somewhere. She waited for the next and adjusted her position just a couple of centimetres. The drops were falling right into her mouth. Suddenly she didn’t care about the flies or the pain. The drips were coming fast and they were constant. She was getting a drink.

  * * *

  Maddie’s computer was finally working after a twenty-minute conversation with an ironically named ‘help desk.’ She needed a break. She scanned the room. No one stood out as somebody she could ask where the coffee machine was. She was aware of movement to her left. A man stepped out of the inspector’s office. It wasn’t the inspector. It was a taller man, older too — in his fifties, she reckoned, maybe half way to sixty. He had a crooked smile and his shaved head reflected the light. He had a look about him that was not unlike a few of the career thugs she had met. He made a beeline for her.

  ‘Maddie Ives?’ His voice was a low rumble. His face gave nothing away and she wondered if she might have done something wrong.

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘You’re the misper coordinator, right?’

  ‘So I’ve been told. If you need something, you might have to bear wi
th me.’

  ‘I don’t. I did it for a bit. The boss asked me to talk to you.’ The man didn’t seem impressed by this. Not at all.

  ‘Okay. And you are . . .?’

  ‘Busy,’ he replied.

  ‘I see. Well, thanks but I’m sure I can pick it up.’ She turned away, feeling her face flush as she fought to keep her anger under the surface.

  ‘Inspector Harry Blaker. I’m not good at jokes. That was a joke.’

  Maddie wasn’t convinced. She turned back to him. ‘No, you’re not. So you did it for a bit. Not for long then?’

  ‘No. I was somewhere else and I upset somebody. They suggested I take a break. This was my break.’ His eyes roved her sorry-looking desk.

  ‘I see. So it’s a punishment posting.’

  ‘It was for me.’

  ‘Brilliant. I get the impression it is for me too.’

  ‘You upset someone too?’ His tone hadn’t changed; it stayed low and flat. She couldn’t read him.

  ‘Yeah. I saved somebody’s life.’

  Finally his face flickered a reaction but she couldn’t tell what it was. ‘I can see how that could cause some inconvenience.’ He moved to perch on the empty desk next to her, looking a little more relaxed — or just less pissed off.

  ‘You don’t want to be having this conversation, do you?’ she said.

  Harry’s attention had drifted to a passing noise, then snapped back to her. ‘Sounds like neither of us do, really.’

  Maddie chewed on her lip. ‘Alright. You have to speak to me. I have to listen. How about we at least go somewhere that does a decent coffee? I’m desperate to get out of here, just for a little while, and I get the impression you might know somewhere.’

  ‘What good cop doesn’t? But I’ve got a lot on. I came to introduce myself, then put you off.’

  ‘You have a certain honesty about you, Inspector Harry Blaker. But I’m not easily put off.’

  ‘Sounds like you might need that attitude, kid. Especially if you’re gonna keep saving lives.’

  ‘I just need half an hour. I’m done with sitting here clicking “refresh” on the BBC news site. At least give me a clue what the hell I should be doing and I promise I’ll leave you alone. If you put me off now I could be a real pain in your arse.’

  He hesitated. His resting expression seemed to be one of general disdain, but he looked even less happy at this moment.

  ‘I may have to make a few calls. You can leave your phone in your pocket or take it out of that case. And you’re buying.’

  Maddie looked down at her mobile phone on the desk. The case was bright pink with faux diamonds. It had been a gift. She hated it but used it out of politeness. She considered ditching it now — one upside of her move. She snatched it up, along with her newly issued passes and almost jumped to her feet. She had to get out of here. Even with this misery of a man. She needed the air.

  Chapter 10

  He reacted to the vibration of his watch as if it were a sharp pain in his arm. Proximity, the notification read. He knew exactly what it meant. He was in his kitchen, having just got home with an uncut loaf and some cheese and chutney. He’d had a nice lunch planned.

  Now he was pulling his phone out of his pocket and hurriedly opening the security camera app. It was a relatively new tech — for the domestic market at least. You could link CCTV to your phone and smartwatch from just about anywhere in the world. ‘Smart cameras,’ they were called. Everything was smart these days. They could be set to lie dormant, only activating when they detected movement. Proximity meant there was movement on one of his.

  He moved through the menus. The screen showed that he had movement on camera four. Camera four! That was the one on Leonard’s Farm. That land was a long way off being sold — nobody should be anywhere near it. Somebody must have opened the container door. They would have discovered the bodies. It was a shame but it didn’t matter, he told himself, he had been careful.

  He pressed to view. His screen turned pitch black. Only the camera label in the top right told him that his phone was still switched on at all. He hadn’t expected darkness. Not if the door was open. He had fitted a smart light, too; it used the same Wi-Fi source. They were designed for your home so you could switch on your lights without the irritation of having to use a switch or to scare off would-be burglars from a distance. But they also worked on desolate farmland if you wanted to admire your own work, to watch it change. He pressed to activate the light. There was a few seconds’ delay. Then the light came on strong and the screen suddenly flared a bright white before settling into focus. He could see the two rolls of dark-coloured plastic. The camera was pointing down at the end by the door. It still looked firmly shut. He had made sure their heads were in the shot so he could see their faces. It was the faces that changed the most. On one of the girls the flies had been busy. Much of her face was slipping and her eyes were gone already. He could see a layer of shuffling black where they still worked. The lighter coloured maggots were in contrast. They wriggled and flexed in the sudden light.

  The other girl was holding up better. It had only been a few days for her. She was on her side, facing the camera. Her eyes were shut. Her mouth hung open. A fly moved out of it. The lips flinched. The mouth shut then opened again.

  She was moving!

  It couldn’t be! He moved the screen closer and held his breath. Maybe he had imagined it? He could still remember her face when he had pushed the eight-inch blade into her gut. It had been like a beautiful embrace. She hadn’t seen it coming — how could she have? He had savoured that wonderful sound when the breath left her body in a sort of coarse whisper. He had lingered for just a moment. Then he helped her to the ground. Down to the plastic sheet laid out behind. He was gentle, like lying down with a lover. Then in two flashes of violence he wrenched out the knife and slashed across her throat. He had wrapped the plastic around her immediately. As tight as he could to catch all the mess. He knew he had done enough. He had felt the life leave her body; he had watched it!

  He stood in his kitchen, still staring at the phone. There was no more movement. He was less sure that she had moved. Less convinced. There could be no way. But was her face at a slightly different angle?

  And then he considered it. He considered that she was still alive, that he might get to watch her die all over again. His face contorted into a grin. He practically clapped his hands — oh, how he hoped she was still alive!

  He checked his watch. He was pressed for time. He would have lunch and then he had another job for the day. This evening he would connect his phone up to his television screen. He would get some nice food, a bottle of wine maybe. His entertainment was set. He just needed to get his work done. He would have more time this evening, he could be sure of that. And if he detected any signs of life he could watch her for a while. But in the morning he would need to go and finish what he had started. It was a nuisance; it brought its problems, but he couldn’t help but hope she was alive, that she would last the night, so he would get to do it all over again.

  He pressed the screen of his phone to turn off the light. There was work to do now. But later he would be able to savour it. It took a few seconds to take effect but then his screen turned back to black.

  Chapter 11

  ‘It doesn’t matter where you are in the world, it seems like these places are all the same.’ Maddie made a second attempt at small talk. She toyed with her drink. They were sat at the back of a popular chain of coffee shops. Lunchtime was fast approaching and it was busy. Harry was stirring his own drink. He didn’t look up.

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘You don’t talk much, do you, sir?’

  ‘Talking gets you in trouble. And call me Harry when we’re out of that place.’

  ‘So I call you Harry and you call me kid, is that how it works?’

  ‘Did I? Force of habit.’

  ‘One could almost think you sounded bitter, Harry.’

  ‘You do this job long enough a
nd it can happen.’ His tone had changed enough for Maddie to detect some sarcasm.

  Silence fell back over them. ‘Well, at least there’s a bit of life in here,’ she offered.

  ‘You mean compared to CID?’

  She looked at him closely. Was that humour she detected in his eyes, or was he just testing her? ‘What is that about? It’s like someone has vacuum packed the place and sucked out all the joy. Right bunch of miserable shits.’

  ‘No bad language, not around me. I don’t stand for it.’ He seemed dead serious. Maddie was a little taken aback. The most foul-mouthed people she knew were all coppers; it was almost a prerequisite.

  ‘You don’t swear?’

  ‘I need to be very angry.’ His growl was back. She lifted her palms and he continued. ‘And it’s a difficult job for detectives at the moment. You think the cuts on the street are bad? The detective roles have taken an even bigger hit. They’re all massively overworked. No one seems to want to be in there anymore. That used to be where you aspired to be.’

  ‘It’ll go full circle. These things tend to, right?’

  Harry lifted his eyes. She got the impression that every time he looked at her he was inspecting her, sizing her up. He was a big guy himself. She reckoned she knew exactly how the criminals felt. Eventually he spoke. ‘I’ve seen it a few times. Reinventing the wheel. It’s the rank and file that take the hit for someone getting promoted on an idea. What’s your story anyway?’

  ‘My story?’

  ‘You don’t want to be here either. So how did that happen?’

  Maddie toyed with her drink. ‘I didn’t want to leave. I loved my job and I loved where I did it. Maybe it was the right decision. I’ve had a few days to reflect.’

  ‘Yours?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I didn’t think so.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Because you don’t really believe that. I assume you weren’t a misper coordinator up north?’

  Maddie resisted the instinct to bite back. He had a nonchalance about him, as if he knew everything about her already. He definitely didn’t.